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She ignored the presence of the most formidable Warrior of the Blood to have ever lived, who had also been her former love-slave. She stretched out on her chaise-longue, clasped her hands over her stomach, and prepared to launch into nether-space. Then she felt a hand on top of her hands.
She opened one eye. “Get away from me, Braulio. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m not especially thrilled to see you right now.”
“I thought we might f**k, take some sting out of the situation here.”
“In your dreams, ass**le.”
“I have some new moves.” He waggled his thick black brows and rippled his abs. “I’ve learned a thing or two in the last three thousand years.”
“Have you learned to f**k yourself, because right now that’s all the action I see you getting.”
He laughed. “You haven’t changed.”
“And you’re still an arrogant prick. So let me make this easy for you. You can’t have me again, Braulio, so if you haven’t come to help out with our sucky little war, then I suggest you take yourself and that bulge in your pants anywhere but here.”
She closed her eyes.
“Aw, babe,” he whined.
She opened her eyes, pressed her lips together, then rose up off her couch to face him. “Aw, babe? What are you, sixteen?”
“I can be, if that’s what you want.”
“You are so full of shit.”
“Aw babe.”
Okay, he’d f**king done it one too many times. So with all the preternatural speed she could muster, she threw a right hook that blurred with the best of them.
But she found that the only thing she hit was his hand, which then closed around her fist.
“That would’ve hurt, Endelle.”
She was way too close to him. He had a nice scent, something familiar, like sandalwood or a really fresh cologne. He had full sensual lips but like hell she was going to just throw herself at one of the biggest players the northern tribes had ever produced.
She took her fist back then turned away from him. “All right, let’s have it. Why are you here? Why did you come to me tonight?”
“To keep you from making a mistake.”
She looked back at him, and he held a phone in his hand, her phone, her Droid. “What the f**k?”
“I need you to call Owen Stannett and make a deal with him about Marguerite.”
So he knew all about that shit. “I can’t and I won’t. I’ve already made that decision. I won’t hurt Thorne.”
“Your loyalty is touching, but make the goddam call.”
At that, she narrowed her eyes at him. “Why? Why should I? Why should Thorne be denied his woman? For what?”
“You know why. You’ve got to get access to the future streams … now.” He squeezed his eyes shut like he was suddenly in pain. “Shit. Time’s up.”
He didn’t lift his arm, he just f**king vanished, and at the same time her phone dropped to the marble floor.
She let a few more expletives fall from her lips.
She picked the phone up, surprised it hadn’t shattered on impact. She rolled her eyes. She tapped the screen.
When Owen’s voice came on the line she said, “All right, you motherfucker, let’s make a deal. Just how bad do you want Marguerite?”
* * *
In the way-too-early hours of the morning, during that gray part of dawn, Marguerite stood before Sister Quena.
She had been awakened from a deep sleep and her first thought had been, Thorne—that perhaps he’d come back and how glad she was. She needed a good tumble after the day she’d had.
But Thorne hadn’t come to the room and thank God she’d had enough sense to keep her mouth shut. The last thing she wanted in this situation was to get Thorne in trouble.
As it was, she had the worst feeling that the thing she had feared the most had finally come upon her.
In a hundred years, she’d never been summoned from her bed by a group of senior devotiates and marched in formal style all the way to Sister Quena’s office.
Now, as she faced the High Administrator of the Exalted Order of Religious Bullshit, she slid her hands deep into the opposing sleeves of her Seers robe in order to hide her trembling hands.
Sister Quena rose from her massive burlwood desk. She had deep permanent grooves on her forehead as though she bore responsibilities no one else could possibly comprehend.
“You know how strenuously we have strived to train you for your most blessed service as a Preeminent Seer of Second Earth. Well, apparently the heavens have smiled upon you. Your gifts have become known to Higher Powers.” She smiled.
Damn. Sister actually smiled.
Then this couldn’t be about Thorne.
And what was all this bullshit about Higher Powers?
Oh, God.
Oh, shit.
A sense of doom swept over her. Just as any good Seer would do, she opened her mind, and the images of her impending future swept through her: of being locked away in the Seer domicile in the middle of the Superstitions, ostracized from society, forced to keep strict schedules and vows of silence, and chained to a grinding routine of constantly looking into the future for the sake of Mortal and Second Earths.
Sister Quena continued, “She Who Would Live herself is having you transferred to the Seers Fortress in Thunder God Mountain. Indeed, such an honor! I cannot even conceive of it.” Vermillion bloomed on each pallid cheek. “I had always hoped, of course.”
Marguerite heard what amounted to a death sentence and shook her head. She kept shaking her head and didn’t stop.
“I see you are overwhelmed by the magnitude of the blessing that has been conferred upon you. I understand. You do not believe yourself worthy and indeed, given your general lack of enthusiasm during rituals, prayers, and study, I am not surprised. But your present silence does you honor and I am fully persuaded that whatever your past errors, whatever the deep unassailable flaws you possess, you will rise to the occasion.”
“No.” She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to do this. I won’t go. I won’t. You can’t make me.”
“Calm down, Sister Marguerite. Your duty always takes supremacy over desire. You know that. Besides, your parents have already approved the transfer. I spoke with them not five minutes ago. They are very proud of this accomplishment. I have ordered the honoring bells, documents, and ribbons. They will take part in a ceremony to be viewed by all of Second Society throughout the entire world. You seem to have no real understanding of the magnitude of this accolade. You should be happy. To be of service in this manner is all that a woman of your ability should ever desire.”
